Psychedelic jalopy turns heads in Salem

Kristin D'Agostino

Thursday

Aug 28, 2008 at 12:01 AMAug 28, 2008 at 3:41 AM

Ali Weaver is cruising. She’s got the windows rolled down, the radio turned up and she’s steering her 1989 Dodge Dynasty around town like any 19-year-old might do on an afternoon off. But it’s not every day people see an old jalopy covered from stem to stern in psychedelic graffiti.

Ali Weaver is cruising.

She’s got the windows rolled down, the radio turned up and she’s steering her 1989 Dodge Dynasty around town like any 19-year-old might do on an afternoon off. But when Weaver comes down the street, heads turn and people stare and give her the thumbs-up sign. One woman stopped beside her at a traffic light leans out the window and yells, “What color did you write on your registration?”

It’s not every day people see an old jalopy covered from stem to stern in psychedelic graffiti.

“Either they love it or they hate it,” Weaver says. “Families with little children, either they say, ‘honey, look at that colorful car’ or they just pick up their child and run across the street.”

Police, especially, have been known to react badly. In the year Weaver’s been driving the car, she’s had two memorable run-ins with local officers. A few months ago she exited a gas station to find two police officers circling her car taking photos. They bombarded her with questions implying the graffiti was gang-related.

“Do you know who did this? Do you know who did that? What’s your name; where do you go to school?” she recalls, eyes blazing at the memory.

“I have no [criminal] record,” she points out. “I’ve never even been pulled over and for some reason they find it OK to bother me.”

Weaver’s second police encounter was on Dodge Street when she was returning to her car after being at a friend’s house. Two policemen questioned her in much the same fashion, though this time they searched her car, looking for drugs.

“They said ‘we’ve been getting calls about suspicion of distribution of drugs and you’re the only car on this street,’” she says. Was it because of the graffiti? Probably, Weaver says.

For her the car is merely a fun way to get to classes at North Shore Community College, or to her part-time job at Fuel Coffee & Juice Bar on Essex Street. Though she is an artist — she paints murals and oil paintings — she has never done graffiti. Most of her car’s markings, she points out, came preinstalled; the Dynasty in its former life was an art project for a group of Phillips Academy students.

Weaver’s mother, a graphic designer at the prep school, thought the car would make a great first car for her daughter. She bought the car for a mere $200 from a teacher who had adopted it.

At first sight, Weaver thought the car was a “riot.” Driving it was a whole other experience.

“At first I got a lot of looks,” she says. “But, you know, I’ve always grown up being my own unique self so it hasn’t really bothered me. I enjoy giving people a laugh during the day, whether it’s at me or my car.”

Moving pictures

Good-looking cars universally attract attention. Men crowd around a parked Ferrari, admiring its lines the same way they might ogle a beautiful woman. In its own artsy way, the Dynasty attracts just as many stares. Like the brainy punk-rock girl at the party, what it lacks in flash and sultry curves, it makes up for in personality. In circling the car, pink, green and blue polka dots and zigzagging lines tumble out at the viewer like confetti. Words and phrases jump out from the chaos, some added by friends, others by complete strangers.

“I wake up and stuff’s there,” Weaver says of the graffiti. “I don’t mind it. There’s no way I’m gonna file a complaint about somebody writing on my car. That’s the whole point ... I encourage people to paint on my car. I keep spray paint in my trunk.”

Weaver — who declares Salvador Dali one of her personal heroes — admits she enjoys graffiti as an art form. “I enjoy the freeness of it …” she reflects. “In some cases, you know, people don’t really respect you painting on peoples’ property, but I think that what it stands for, the history behind it, is beautiful.”

Some of the graffiti spray-painted on the Dynasty, she admits, is cryptic. The phrase Pork Roll appears at least four times painted in bright gold. Weaver shrugs when questioned about it, saying of the friend who wrote it, “He’s Irish. It’s Chinese food. I don’t ask questions.”

Weaver herself painted two colorful stencils on the car’s passenger side, one of a small tree, another of a tiny crab. Her favorite graffiti is the phrase Soul Control, painted on the rear bumper. Other found phrases are Boo Yakasha — a reference to “Da Ali G Show” — and Dream Weaver is my hero, a tribute to Ali’s last name. One friend, when invited to leave her mark, chose simply to write her name, Kaitlyn, all over the car in blue pen the way she might sign a yearbook. There are no real restrictions in signing, Weaver says, because after all, that would defeat the purpose.

“When you’re being as bold as to spray paint in general, you can’t really say one way or the other [what goes on the car],” she says. “If you’re going to do it, you might as well go all out …There’s only one golden rule: windows are off limits … As long as I can see I don’t mind.”

Runnin’ down a dream

Weaver’s wheels are a colorful reflection of her own quirky personality. The car’s bold exterior parallels her nonconformist streak while the inside whispers clues about her habits and interests. Strewn across the backseat are a “Best of Neil Young” CD, a bottle of suntan lotion, a sketchbook and a history textbook. On the floor in the front seat, beneath the steering wheel, is a pile of crushed cigarette butts. “They’re to remind me not to smoke,” Weaver says, noting she recently quit. “It’s a reminder that it’s disgusting.”

Over the past year, Weaver has gotten to know the Dynasty’s quirks, but they don’t seem to bother her a bit. “The car doesn’t go in reverse,” she declares while feeding quarters into a Front Street meter. No big deal, she says, just another great excuse to give up parallel parking.

Also, while cruising city streets the car sometimes bucks like a wild mustang. “It slows down, then pulls back and gives me a little jolt when it’s ready to go again,” she says, adding a moment later. “I have AAA.”

To play it safe, Weaver and her wheels stay close to home. Road trips, she says, are best left for other peoples’ cars.

Soon Weaver and the Dynasty will go their separate ways. The artist is planning to move to California in coming months, where she hopes to study environmental science. She is putting the car up for sale. When speaking of their pending separation, Weaver speaks in the Zen-like tone of someone ready to move on. Her friends, she points out, seem more upset about the loss than she is.

“They’re already mad at me that I’m giving it up,” she says. “I’m kind of like their entertaining taxi to parties ...”